The Scarlet Letter Society

by Mary McCarthy

  “I loved the way you had all the photos from over the years displayed at the house,” said Maggie. “How did you get that all together?”

  “Oh gosh, I just gathered the ones mom had kept around the house and some from boxes in the attic and got matching frames and put them together,” said Eva. “It was actually nice to have some busy work to do during those days.”

  “You will always carry her with you,” said Maggie. “She’s part of who you are.”

  Maggie looked down for a minute as she thought about how mothers are always part of who we are, even the kind of mother who abandons you. Do I carry that around? Abandonment? Leaving people so they can’t leave me?

  “It’s true,” Zarina said, taking the liberty of interrupting the conversation only because she knew what it was like to lose a parent. “I’m so sorry, Eva.”

  She delivered lattes and muffins and then faded into the background again, not wanting to be a distraction to such an emotional scene between the women.

  “You know, we should talk about the book,” said Eva. “Because with everything I had going on and taking off work for the two weeks, I had time to sit around and actually read it.”

  “Oh, God,” said Maggie. “More death. Are we sure we want to do that this month? We can skip it completely…”

  “No, let’s talk about it,” said Eva. “I mean, all these women dying or getting STDs in these books just because they’ve had affairs seems kind of ridiculous, doesn’t it? At least the one girl, Isadora, didn’t die. That’s been the best one so far. I did write down one quote from Madame Bovary, because it came at such an opportune time and it is so true: ‘Death always brings with it a kind of stupefaction, so difficult is it for the human mind to realize and resign itself to the blank and utter nothingness.’ It’s the nothingness that’s the hardest.’” Eva’s eyes filled with tears.

  “Even though there is death, Emma is so beautiful in her tragedy,” said Lisa. She took out her journal, the trusty, faded book in which she’d taken notes on each and every book they’d read. She read:

  “Before she married, she thought she was in love; but the happiness that should have resulted from that love, somehow had not come. It seemed to her that she must have made a mistake, have misunderstood in some way or another. And Emma tried hard to discover what, precisely, it was in life that was denoted by the words ‘joy, passion, intoxication’, which had always looked so fine to her in books.”

  “It does always somehow seem better in books, doesn’t it?” said Maggie. “except when you fucking die at the end of the book, then maybe not so much. I just don’t get this whole ‘you’re in love, you don’t play by the rules society expects of you, you die’ storyline.”

  “So true,” said Eva, sniffling. “Who wrote all these books? Catholic priests?”

  “Sure seems like it,” said Lisa. “Like we don’t have enough guilt in our lives already without feeling like we’re supposed to feel guilty because it’s what the literature says.”

  “Well, I haven’t had guilt about anything in a long time,” said Eva. “I think you actually have to still love a person to feel guilty about cheating on them, and I haven’t been in love with Joe for probably a decade. We have finally decided to get a separation and divorce.”

  “Oh, wow,,” said Maggie. “that is big news. You’ve had a tough month. Are you ok with it?”

  “It feels like a relief,” said Eva. “Like I’ll be free. The marriage was a façade for so long. I didn’t even realize how unhappy I was until I started finding happiness in other places. I can’t say I’m not sad in some ways, and I definitely feel like a marriage failure, but it seems like it will be pretty peaceful.”

  “It takes two people to allow a marriage to fail,” said Lisa. “But fail isn’t even really a good word. It’s an ending and another beginning. I am sure the divorce will be tough for the boys, but once they make it through, the peacefulness will be good for them and for you.”

  “I hope so,” said Eva. “I know high school is a tough time, so I hope this doesn’t make it worse for them, but I can’t believe having two happy parents in different places isn’t going to be better for them than having two miserable ones in the same place.”

  “That has got to be true,” said Maggie.

  “Enough about me,” said Eva. “I want to know what is going on with you two. I haven’t been around much to see you and catch up on the latest news in your love lives.”

  “My husband is in counseling for the foot fetish and some additional fertility testing, too,” said Lisa, “and Ben is…well, he’s just…Ben.”

  “No steamy stories of hot sex under covered bridges for us today, Lisa?” asked Maggie.

  “Not today,” said Lisa. “He came to the shop for lunch recently…”

  “And then he helped you eat some pie?” said Eva,.

  “He loves my pie,” said Lisa with a smirk.

  “I’ll bet he does,” said Maggie. “Well girls, I have to report things are a little confusing for me lately. Too many people in my life. I want to simplify things, but I don’t know how. I’m too old for all this action. I want to settle down. I just want someone who will be there to have coffee with every morning, maybe even bring it to me in bed once in awhile.”

  “That,” said Eva, “absolutely has to be the truest love of all. Someone who will bring you coffee in bed.”

  “Absolutely,” said Lisa. “I think that’s all Madame Bovary ever wanted. She might have even made it to the end of the book if she had a guy bringing her coffee in bed.”

  November 2012

  “Tempted by the fruit of another/Tempted but the truth is discovered/What’s been going on /Now that you have gone /There’s no other.”

  -Tempted, Squeeze

  Monthly meeting of the Scarlet Letter Society.

  Zoomdweebies Café

  Friday, November 2, 2012

  5:30 a.m.

  Pick up book of the month from Zarina: The Awakening by Kate Chopin.

  “The scarlet letter was her passport into regions where other women dared not tread.”

  -The Scarlet Letter, Nathaniel Hawthorne

  Lisa sat at the counter of her shop with her coffee. The air was filled with the smell of holiday pumpkin and apple pies baking. Her laptop was in front of her. She’d just opened the SLS invite from Maggie. She had already read The Awakening, but would pick up her copy to give it a second look. Oh Christ, she thought, we can’t get away from whore-punishing death around here, can we? She might skip the second reading and just find some quotes from Goodreads to bring to the meeting. She thought about telling Maggie that maybe they should read books about something else- anything else- for awhile.

  She sat down and began to work on how to phrase the email she wanted to send to Ben. She wanted to see him again, but she didn’t want to seem overeager.

  from: Lisa lswain@blackbirdspie.com

  to: Ben bnidale@starfishdesign.com

  date: Thursday, November 1, 2012 at 9:10 AM

  subject: Graphic

  I love my new logo so much that I ordered t-shirts. Made sure they weren’t all girly colors, so I could save one for you to thank you for your perfect graphic design. Wanna grab a drink one day after work so I can bring your shirt?

  L

  * * *

  This was the third version of the email. Should I ask to have lunch? Was asking to have drinks too forward? Why didn’t he just make out with me when he was in my shop the last time? She felt like a fool. It had been awhile since they’d even communicated. She didn’t even know if he was as sexually interested in her as she was him, or if he was at all. The electricity between them seemed obvious to her, but maybe she was imagining it. There was no way in hell she was going to be making the first move physically, but she knew if he made it, she could not turn him down.

  She hit send, and immediately the guilt, because she knew her husband was trying to patch things up between them. Ben answered her almost immediately.


  from: Ben bnidale@starfishdesign.com

  to: Lisa lswain@blackbirdspie.com

  date: Thursday, November 1, 2012, 9:14 AM

  subject: Booze and t-shirts

  Well if it isn’t the lovely baker putting the booze invite out there. Hmmmm…I guess technically now that my firm’s work for you is complete, you’re not formally a client anymore. Therefore, engaging in drunken t-shirt exchanges seems entirely appropriate. Pick a day.

  Ben

  * * *

  Lisa smiled, feeling her cheeks flush. That’s right, she thought. I guess the whole “professional” relationship was over now that her logo was on the window sign, t-shirts were here and the website was all but complete. So now what? This was the question she was going to have to answer for herself, especially before her lightweight ass hit the barstool next to her hunky “former graphic designer.” She answered him with three words: Why not today? and hit send. And then she walked over and took the fresh, steaming apple pie from the oven.

  Zarina and Stanley met at the restaurant simply because they could both walk there. Stanley had said he wanted to try the new fancy celebrity chef’s restaurant on Commerce Street, and she’d been surprised. Usually he wasn’t the type of guy who wanted to go fancy. Zarina had mentioned the restaurant a few weeks before, but maybe he had just seen the guy on t.v. and wanted to try it out. She was thrilled to get dressed up in something other than the usual t-shirt/jeans attire. Heels! Makeup! Perfume! All rarities for her. But it was always fun to feel like a girly girl once in awhile.

  She chose a peach colored velvet Juicy dress she’d found at an upscale consignment shop downtown. It looked nice with her caramel skin and black hair. Black tights and boots, and she cracked open last year’s Sephora holiday box of makeup for one of the first times to pick out fun eye shadow shades and a lipstick. She stood in the lobby of the restaurant, which was a renovated historic brownstone mansion complete with curved terraces on the upper floors, bay windows, and beautiful stained glass.

  Stanley walked in, and he was wearing a tie, and she laughed, not meaning to, but she couldn’t help it. He just looked so awkward in the thing. Zarina felt bad about laughing so she shuffled over and hugged him.

  “You’re laughing because I’m wearing a tie,” he said.

  “It looks fantastic. I’m sorry. I just don’t know if I’ve ever seen you in one.”

  “You know,” he smiled at her, “I could say something about how that was probably the first time I’ve hugged you at this new higher height since I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in heels before.”

  “You are correct, sir,” she said. “I bet you haven’t seen me in heels before.”

  “And what is that stuff on your eyes?” he said, faking bewilderment.

  “Ha ha, ok, very funny, let’s go act like we belong in this fancy schmancy place before we both turn back into pumpkins,” she said, and they entered the restaurant.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Dean?” the bow-tied butler type walked over and asked.

  “I’m Stanley Dean,” said Stan, “and this is… Zarina.”

  She covered her mouth to hide a laugh at his formal tone of voice, because she did not want to look like a jackass and make a scene in what felt like a high society kind of place.

  They sat down at a table between the beautiful picture window facing the street and the marble fireplace. She looked across at him in his slightly wrinkled soft blue corduroy shirt and plaid flannel tie. Only Stanley would wear a plaid flannel tie. She smiled at him.

  “See? We CAN have nice things,” he said, returning her smile.

  “Now there’s nothing wrong with eating Chinese food out of boxes in front of Fast Times at Ridgemont High,” Zarina said.

  “Not at all,” he said. “But once in awhile it is nice to dress up in real people clothes.”

  “Yes, real people clothes are ok once in awhile,” she agreed. They talked in the natural way they always did. He was graduating in the spring, and she’d just started taking grad classes, and they were both ready for Christmas break already.

  The pair enjoyed a delicious meal. Oyster stew and blue cheese wedge salads and pan seared scallops and they shared the chocolate banana bread pudding for dessert. Zarina was stuffed.

  “It looks like your carriage has arrived, princess,” he said, gesturing towards the window.

  She looked out to see a quaint horse drawn carriage. What was this? She looked inquiringly at Stan, thinking maybe he was joking.

  “I got tickets to the orchestra at the arts center,” said Stan. “And it looks like our ride is here.”

  She was amazed. “What did I do to deserve all this?” she asked. “Or what did you do wrong that you haven’t told me?”

  “I just thought it was time for a night where you felt like royalty,” he said. “You work really hard and you deserve it.”

  “Wow,” she said. “Well then I guess I’ll take it.”

  They walked out into the chilled night and climbed into the back of the beautiful antique carriage. A warm wool blanket lay folded on the velvet bench, and they spread it across their laps and snuggled in for the ride. The white lights had been put on the trees throughout downtown immediately following Halloween. Zarina could not believe how early these holidays lights had gone up, but now she appreciated how gorgeous they made their town look at night.

  They rode for a while in silence, listening to the clip-clop of the horse hooves on the street. She felt happy. It’s a feeling you almost don’t recognize when it comes, she realized. If you weren’t paying attention, you might not even notice it was there. A Ferris Bueller quote that communicated this floated in the back of her mind. If you don’t stop and look around once in awhile… you had to hurry up and enjoy it when it came, because you didn’t know when it would come again.

  Stan turned to her and began speaking.

  “I know that we both think marriage is old-fashioned and stupid,” he said, “but one of the things I love about us is that we’re old fashioned and stupid. You don’t have to say yes, you don’t even have to say anything. But I got this for you, and if ever one day you do feel like getting married, I hope it is me you choose to do something old-fashioned and stupid with.”

  He opened the black velvet box, and she heard the words he was saying but she couldn’t believe what was happening. It was like she had fallen asleep and was dreaming. Marriage? Say anything? What?

  She looked down at a small but stunning vintage diamond set in white gold filigree. He knew that everything she loved was vintage.

  We’re both so young, she thought. How could we possibly know today that we want to spend the rest of our lives together?

  She looked into his sweet, puppy-dog eyes. He actually crammed himself down onto one knee inside the tiny carriage.

  “Zarina,” he said. “You’re my favorite. Marry me.”

  She looked at the ring. It sparkled from the white lights from the trees all around.

  “You’re my favorite, too,” she said. “But let’s take a little time to think about a wedding, ok?”

  He looked at her, devastated as he quietly closed the box. He had no words. And the horses’ hooves began to drum their way through the town, deafeningly loud against the silence inside the carriage.

  “I cannot fucking believe you were in the same theatre with your ex and your beau at the same time during fucking Cabaret,” said Wes, curling himself into the orange 60s egg pop art chair at Maggie’s shop.

  “How seriously Broadway was that?” Maggie walked out from behind the counter and sat in the matching egg chair.

  “Well you would’ve made Liza proud if she had been there, for damn sure,” said Wes.

  “I should’ve never had that third drink,” said Maggie. “Two at dinner and one at the theatre would have been plenty. Buzzed but not trashed, always my goal. The second rum and Coke at intermission was completely unnecessary.”

  “You mean that confidence juice that made you march up to your
ex-husband while he was on a date and cause a scene in the lobby of the theatre? The one that made the intermission more dramatic than the movie?” asked Wes,.

  “It was not a scene, exactly,” said Maggie. “I was just introducing everyone.”

  “Let me paraphrase,” said Wes. “I believe your words were something to the effect of ‘Oh, hey Dave, this is the guy I’m fucking, Ted.’ And then you motioned to Dave’s date and said ‘Ted, this is the girl who is fucking my husband.’ You actually put your hand out like she was going to shake yours. Hilarious.”

  “Total fucking disaster,” said Maggie.

  “You could hear the awkward silence from a mile around,” said Wes. “We couldn’t have shown the second half of the movie until the real live drama was done in the lobby, because that’s what everyone really wanted to see.”

  “I don’t drink that much,” said Maggie, “but when I do, the very thin filter between my brain and my mouth is completely obliterated.”

  “Truth serum for sure, honey,” said Wes. “But maybe it’s better that everything is out in the open now?”

  “They were on a first date,” said Maggie. “The poor girl looked horrified. For all she knew he was still married to me, not divorced from me for a decade.”

  “And what about Ted?” asked Wes. “How did he take it?”

  “He laughed when it happened,” said Maggie, “I think because he was trying to do the ‘oh, silly Maggie had too many drinks’ cover-up thing. But I do believe he was shocked at my use of the word ‘husband’ in reference to my first, not to mention my second, my first husband. We fought about it a little bit…”

  “Uh oh,,” said Wes. “Trouble in paradise?”

  “He is being ridiculous with this whole ‘running away with the band’ thing,” said Maggie. “I mean, really, he’s going to be 50 and he’s going to get in a bus and drive across the country to play gigs for chrissakes?”